I Refuse
by INeedCoffeeArghhh
Summary: The inevitable dispute between Christophe and Damien arose: who would bottom? There wasn't a chance in hell it would be Damien, but God damn if Christophe was going to do it. (Two-shot)
1. Christophe

_A/N: Yeah, this has been knocking about on my laptop for a while. It's short... Just have it already! _

_Because fanfiction needs more Dristophe and damn they're a fun (if rather dysfunctional) couple to write, with swearing... it is Christophe folks._

_Disclaimer: What's that? I still don't own South Park? Dammit. _

* * *

There is no way, no way that it will be me. I will never submit. _He_ on the other hand will.

I'm not really sure he agrees.

I glare at Damien with unmoving determination. I can feel the fury rising inside me; the obsessive dominant side taking over. Damien glares back, his red eyes piercing into my soul, attempting to make me go weak, gasp and quiver in a delicious bliss that will leave me powerless to fight. I've felt that bliss before, it's tempting, but if I let it happen then I know I'm screwed, literally. I'm prepared for his little trick, well practised in resisting, well-trained _by_ him to resist. For that trick was often used by other demons for very different reasons.

"Zat won't work. You made it so zat won't work." I prod his bare chest, pushing him back slightly. The first steps in getting the upper hand, which I will have.

Damien smirks, not saying anything, just allowing a slow move towards the wall. I continue glaring at him suspiciously. What's his game? The look he gives me back is heart-melting. He is heart-melting, so appetizing, so incredible, so one hundred percent mine at last.

Fuck you. I'm not being a pussy, these are the facts.

I continue moving Damien towards the wall, stroking up and down the magnificent chest, feeling more confident that he's going to let me have my way. That spark in his eye suggests he's up to something though.

"What are you trying to do?" I ask. It was time this was out in the open. We'd had an explosive day, ending in a fire fuelled kiss, and two rather rough declarations of love. Now, with my shirt burnt off, and his shirt ripped off, I can't control my lust any longer. I've been waiting for this for so long.

Damien raises an eyebrow. "Well, I'm clearly trying to make you admit defeat, and get you on your back."

"Zat is never going to 'appen, beetch." I don't bottom. I have never bottomed and will never bottom. Do I in any way seem like a submissive person? No. Besides, Damien certainly has a weird way of trying to get me to admit defeat. He isn't fighting at all...

"I am not being the bitch, Christophe." Swiftly he clamps his heel down, shoving me back, but keeping me close by holding onto my collar. I have to steady myself, and stop myself faltering as I lock into his indescribable eyes. I actually can't describe them and the way they make me feel. It's stupid, I hate it.

Okay, I love it, but I'm never going to fucking admit it.

I growl, annoyed that I've been thrown back, how did I not see that coming? I can't let something as simple as love blind me. "Well zis eesn't 'appening if you're not on ze bottom." I really need this to happen too, the amount of hot chills he gives me is ridiculous. I draw Damien's face close to mine and whisper gruffly, "I don't bottom."

He licks his lips. "You will." His tone is mocking, confident, like he could not possibly lose. The burning in his eyes would have floored me if I weren't so worked up. Those blazing eyes... beyond words, like endless light wrapped in a red shield of darkness. Not even Shakespeare could capture the immortal depths they held.

In some mad fit of passion, I slam my lips into Damien's, revelling in the ecstatic hot feel of them, the responsive softness they hold. It's like kissing fire but without the scalding blisters, all you get is the burning thrill, you forget until that point how fucking hungry you are for it, and suddenly you're gasping for air as he draws you closer, releasing his grip on your collar and instead moving to wrap his broad arms around your back. Everything goes blurry, all you see are flames, you gasp again and...

...

Shit.

I must have blacked out for a minute because next thing I know, I'm on the ground, head spinning, with him very firmly on top of me, chuckling lightly as he caresses my chest. "Oh dear, silly Mole, you didn't damage your head did you?"

Merde.

I blush violently at the thought of fainting _just because_ of a kiss. That makes me sound so weak, one fucking kiss and I'm on my back. I try to push him away. It's not happening. "Sheet, get off me, faggot," I snarl.

"I don't think so," he growls in a sultry tone. Something below the belt is responding to that voice, getting itself very excited. Does it not want us to win this? Is it happy to play the bitch? "Oh, I intend to fuck you, and there isn't anything you can do."

I try to not let these words get to me, but I can't help it. He's sending me crazy, my heart feels like it's about to explode and my dick is getting very impatient.

He kisses up my chest, grazing his teeth against the skin, varying the pressure and sending an exquisite tingling through my body and down to that member that just doesn't seem to care how it gets attention anymore, as long as it gets some. Damien continues his trail of sizzling kisses up to my neck, the sensitive area. Every kiss feels a hundred times stronger there, deliciously more dangerous when the teeth get introduced, and so satisfying.

I gasp into his mouth as he attaches his lips to mine. I won't let myself pathetically black out again this time. I take a moment to enjoy the elation running through my body, kissing him back viciously, feeling a hardness against my thigh to suggest he's enjoying this too.

But of course.

His breath becomes shorter. His fingers run down my sides and fidget with my belt buckle to undo it. He roughly pulls it off and makes to undone my trouser button, plunging a hand under my waist band and eliciting an uncontrollable groan from my lips.

No, I can't let that happen. If he gets to that then I'm screwed.

My overwhelming competitiveness to win takes over my brain, and with all the strength in my body I can muster, I push him hard, rolling him to the side. It's a desperate scrabble. I grip his shoulders tightly as he scratches at my chest. But I have a better position, more power behind my movements, and with a bang, he's on the ground and I'm on top.

"Ha, take zat, beetch." Was that a little immature? Vindictive maybe? It's not like he doesn't deserve it though.

"This doesn't change anything," he states, as his looming hands pressing on my shoulders threaten to overpower me again.

I do all I can do to keep my place. I bite down on his lower lip, hard, sucking at the burning blood. He seems to melt beneath me, as he lets out a deep groan and his muscles go limp. It's a beautiful moment, to feel in control of pleasing him. I straddle him, firmly locking him in place. He just stares at me with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance on his face. I will make that all pleasure; it's time to have some fun.

"Zat's a good leetle beetch," I purr, running my hands up his chest, his gorgeous hot, perfectly smooth chest. I've never heard of warm marble, but that's exactly what it is, perfect heated marble, tres bien. It's mesmerizing to look at, those beautiful abs just the right amount of definition, without being bulky. Hardly any demons are sexy like this; I really got lucky getting this one. Well I wouldn't have wanted one if it wasn't _this_ one, and I have a way of getting what I want.

I'm getting it right now.

I tangle my hands into his thick hair, pulling up so his head is slightly off the ground. I bring my face close to his so our breath is mingling, until I can't focus on him properly, I can almost feel his heart beating furiously through my own chest. "Now, are you going to be good?"

"You know I'll never be good," he says slowly, running his hands down my back and under my waistband, squeezing my ass. I try not to groan at the way it makes me feel, it's strangely enjoyable, like in a mystifying moment I almost want his hands to go further. His words cut through this thought: "Just let me at it then."

I lock eyes with Damien to see him grinning devilishly. That bitch read my mind. I hate it when he does that. He knows he shouldn't do it.

"I can't help it when your thoughts are so loud!" He pauses and gives me _that_ look _again_. "Now we both know you'll enjoy it, just let me do it."

"No, no way, not 'appening." I make my point by grabbing his wrists in my hands and shoving them back behind his head. He grunts, he scowls, and I smirk. "Zere, zat's better."

"That is not better."

"I'll make you change your mind," I growl into his mouth, as I attach mine again. There is too much kissing and not enough fucking going on here. The problem is that he's still fighting back, as soon as I move from having him locked between my legs, he'll just pounce on me. So I continue with the battle, but this time our tongues are the one's doing it.

Content in the knowledge that his tongue is bending to mine's will, I take a moment to bite down on his bottom lip again, rather sadistic, but I love to see the blood pour out of it.

"I love it too, Tophe," he pants, "it's just heavenly."

I freeze. What did he just say? 'It's just heavenly.' He just made a reference to heaven? Connotations to that asshole _God_ at a time like this. Why the hell would he? What the-

I gasp in shock as with full force he clutches my arms and pushes me back. My head hits the ground, hard, _again_.

Fuck.

I don't believe it, that sneaky bitch. I try to struggle free, but it's useless. I'm on the ground. He's straddled on top. I can't move. A groan escapes my lips at the unexpected delight this causes me.

He grins. "Pinned you." He leans forward, trailing his mouth up my jaw, and whispering in my ear. "You're just too easy sometimes." He bites down delightfully on my ear. "Glad you had your moment of fun though."

I frown up at him, but looking into those deep red eyes, there's really only one reaction left I can have.

"You beetch," I mutter, not really thinking it, and he knows I don't, but I've come too far to admit my enjoyment out loud.

Fuck it, I give up. I'll win next time...

(Another groan as he moves to pull my trousers down and my body shakes in anticipation.)

...or maybe the time after.

Damien chuckles, the bastard knows he's won.


	2. Damien

_A/N: The abrupt ending was just me being unnecessarily cruel to you. *Evil laugh* I actually didn't mean for there to be any wait between the two. Yeah, here's the smut half. I've never done it in first person before, but hey, tell me what you think._

* * *

He looks so cute all cross faced and pouting beneath me. Not the type of adjective anyone else would use... ever, but I find him cute. I wonder if he knows that he pouts. God, he'd probably be very pissed off if he found out, but then he's always pissed off isn't he? It's one of the things I love about him: his complete cynical view on life.

Does that sound like a normal thing to say?

Maybe I can get away with it; living in the seventh layer of hell doesn't exactly make you very optimistic. Not that I don't visit Earth. I visit Earth for Christophe (he'd need to die to visit hell and that's not very practical, plus my dad would throw a fit if I sent him back up afterwards, it really fucks with the system.)

Back to today's events shall we? I bit the bullet and told him I loved him, and then I sort of set his shirt on fire. Watching that shirt burn away and his perfect abs, strong arm muscles and just genuinely amazing body being revealed was mouth-watering. I had to have him, he had to have me, but I was not going to bottom.

And as I stare into his frowning, but hungry green eyes, I think I can conclude that I've won.

"You beetch," he mutters. He doesn't really mean that, it's like a catchphrase or something isn't it? 'I'll label everything and everyone as a bitch because I hate life and God can go to hell.' I must be close? But I don't want God to join me in hell; he's no fun.

Christophe groans as I pull his trousers down, his body shaking. I chuckle, he agrees I've won. I didn't think it possible, but his naked form is even more appetizing than his half-naked one. He has a slim but strong build, which transfers to every part of him.

He must notice the ravenous look in my eyes.

"Do you like what you see?" he growls. Still not compliant enough to shut up it seems.

I choose not to answer, instead taking his member in my hand, tracing over the slit with my thumb and listening to his groan of desire. He's so worked up right now; I can hear his eagerness for relief. Not wanting to disappoint I drop my head down and lick the head, and damn, the taste makes me want more. A groan escapes my lips as his pre-cum sizzles on my hot tongue. I drop my mouth down over his member, creating the perfect friction as it begins to move in and out.

Christophe wriggles beneath me, his legs flying in the air at either side, trapping me between them. I ignore everything, continuing to furiously work on his member, waiting for him to scream out in bliss. I glance up at him, his face red, and the look on it is like nothing I've seen before. Instead of knitting together, his eyebrows are forming a more shocked expression. His eyes are staring up, wide, bliss around the edges, but with a glint of furious passion in the centre. He's biting his lip in such an endearing way, it makes me smile: he really is very cute.

I groan at the feeling in my chest when he links eyes with me. The vibrations the groan causes, moving from the back of my throat and down his member, make him gasp and buck his hips forward urgently.

"Y-You've done zis before, 'aven't you, faggot?" he pants, grasping my hair in his fingers to urgently hold onto something. I can sense he's approaching his edge, breath erratic, body shaking.

I move my mouth away, finishing him off with a few furious pumps of my hand. "Only in your dreams," I whisper, which would have made him blush if he wasn't already so red. "I've never wanted to give anyone else this _pleasure._"

This proves too much for him, and with a groan almost like a roar, he shoots his seed over his stomach.

"F-Fuck," he pants, still tugging on my hair, the stinging sends thrills through me, and reminds me that I'm so hard at this point that I must have release soon. I lick up his stomach, involuntarily groaning as his salty seed transfers into my mouth. The overwhelming urge to do this was too much to ignore. It's like I just have to do it, have it all, it's precious, and it's come from Tophe: it can't be wasted...

I just want everything about him.

I smack my burning lips into his. They may feel hot, but they hold no real danger. It's more a state of mind tricking people into thinking they'll be burnt. It's a relief that not every kiss leads to blisters for this guy, because his enticing lips would be a mess. God damn, I love kissing him, so many years of resisting finally over. No one else compares; they're all too gentle, too weak, or just plain boring. Not Christophe, he's the opposite of all these things and more.

I pull off my bottom layers. We're now both completely naked.

"Do you want eet, beetch?" he growls into my mouth.

"Your ass? Absolutely," I reply.

He licks his lips, eyes glistening. "Well tough."

He shoves me hard and I fall off him onto my back, gasping, and momentarily winded. He rolls over into a crouch and jumps up quickly, mercenary reflexes kicking in. I make a grab for his legs, but he avoids my arms effortlessly. Grabbing my collar, he yanks me up and slams me against the nearest wall. My head blanks as it hits the hard brick.

"What the hell?" I yell, coughing, and attempting to shove him back. "W-Why did you do that?"

He just smirks. "Because I know you'll like zis, beetch."

I swear if he calls me bitch one more time I'll-

I gasp, body going weak as his fingers intrude over my chest, they're rough and with every spot they touch, seem to draw out delight and sensation that I wasn't aware was there. It's like they hold a magic quality which sparks excitement deep inside of me. A touch, a jolt, pure bliss. I know what his plan is, he's received head, and now he's changed his mind about being on the bottom. He's going to try to seduce me into giving in.

His hands make their way down to my crotch, gripping my member tightly, the first touch it's received all night. I can almost hear it scream in delight, and I groan with it. Maybe there's a way I can get both things out of this? Let him touch me for a while and then when it goes further... pounce.

How devilish of you, Damien. What a sly cat you are.

He drops to his knees, kissing the tip of my aching need, before encapsulating it in his mouth. He moves his head in a rhythmic way. His hands never stop roaming, trailing over all my body, along my thighs, clutching at my hips, and squeezing my ass, allowing him to steady himself, keeping up the friction. I hate that I'm enjoying his invasion of my ass so much, fingers brushing too close to the no-go area.

I gasp. "G-God, th-that's just, I'm just..." I can't finish my sentence, my head is spinning wildly. I've never felt this way before, it's like I've been waiting all my life for this moment, a moment I never dreamt would feel so _good_. I have to concentrate not to buckle and fall on the floor under the body-shaking pleasure I'm receiving. My heart is having spasms, feeling like it's about to pack in. I feel like my whole body is about to give in to him. Just take me, Christophe, I'm yours.

Scratch that, I sound like a faggot.

... And now I sound like Christophe.

I need to... I need to reassert my authority. I gasp again as his mouth continues to work on my dick. This, I can't take much more before I come.

The thought makes me catch Christophe off guard, throwing him from me and sending him hurtling down, landing on a handily placed table. He's face down, bent over it, ass in the air. I laugh at the sight; it's a perfect perfect sight. I push down on his back before he has the chance to get up. He's helplessly trapped, at my mercy, and he knows it.

"Get off me," he hisses.

"No," I reply, stroking up his spine.

He shivers under the touch. "I thought I 'ad you," he grumbles.

I chuckle, leaning over him and whispering in his ear. "Not quite." He thrashes his body beneath me; I can see that he's fully aroused again, there's only one thing left to do. I stroke his hair, kissing his neck briefly, before straightening up. "This will hurt a lot less if you keep still." I grab his hips and with one sharp thrust, push the entire way into him, no messing about, no time for him to react.

He screams, hands pummelling the table in front of him, nails scratching in the wood. I almost feel guilty; I didn't mean to cause him so much pain.

He must notice my hesitation, for after a moment of panting, he grunts, and growls, "Well eef you're going to do eet zen fucking do eet!" I can sense he's smirking at my hesitance, definitely taking it as a sign that I'm 'pussying around caring about his wellbeing.' I can read in his mind that it makes him happy though, for the first time he feels cared about.

He arches back into me. I grin, pounding in and out of his ass with devilish fury. The table shakes and he continues to grunt and groan violently, although the noises he makes increasingly sound more ecstatic, like he's in total bliss. His thoughts ring around my head, all extremely positive.

I groan, the combination of Christophe's groans, his thoughts, the feeling I'm getting in my own body, and the feeling I can sense in his, it's almost enough to make me faint from being besieged by pleasure. Pleasure to the point the body can't take it, threatening to overpower my heart, which on top of everything else, is so desperately in love that it wants this moment to never end, because this moment is _pure_ paradise.

It's like I'm receiving two sets of orgasms, it's mind-fucking. It's incredible it's- it's...

My vision patches white and mind goes blank as I reach my edge, with such an ecstatic explosion into Christophe's ass that I collapse on top of him, unable to steady myself. He reaches his edge too, grip on the table faltering.

Bodies entwined, we fall to the flaw. My arms wrap protectively around his waist as he lands on top of me.

He spins around, his hair is wringing with sweat and his eyes are as intense as I've ever seen them. He looks like he's about to hit me, but he drops his head down to give me the most desperate, breathless, yet tender kiss I've ever received.

I slowly pull him up and he winces. I half drag, half carry him over to the bed, where we flop down, falling into each other's arms. He rests his head on my chest, listening with increasing calmness as it steadily starts to slow down, breath returning to normal.

"My ass ees on fire," he grumbles.

I chuckle. "Don't complain, you got two orgasms out of it didn't you?"

"Yes," he admits, pouting again. "I guess I enjoyed bottoming a leetle bit."

I stroke his head, playing softly with his hair. "I can tell."

His face contorts into a playful smile. "But next time your ass ees mine."

I think possibly I may just have to agree with him. There's something about it drawing me in, something in those rough, large hands that I want inside me. Hopefully he'd take it slower than I did; even_ I_ wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of what I did. Tophe on the other hand seems to think it was perfect. "Deal," I whisper, kissing his head.

He yawns, overcome with fatigue and nestles further into my chest. He's slipping into a vulnerable half-asleep state. The smile stays on his face and he mutters words to me in French, some nonesense about warm marble, as he slowly drifts off. God damn, he can be so cute.

Shall I tell him? Yeah, I think I will.

"You're so cute, Tophe," I whisper.

"Merci," he mutters, as his brain shuts down, not fully comprehending what he's just said. If he was awake he would have beaten me, but he falls asleep, and I join him, knowing that our first time really couldn't have gone any better.


End file.
